Initium est etiam
by INFAMOUSkidBlue
Summary: SPOILER-Jonathan didn't die when Clary stabbed him, but everyone thinks he's dead. He's being given a second chance to live, as punishment for what the demon in him did. But how is he possibly meant to live with the ghosts of what he did still haunting him? And with downworlders and shadowhunters all celebrating his apparent death? He dosen't even know what his favourite colour is.
1. Chapter 1

"NO MORE, SEBASTIAN! NO MORE!" Clary roared, raising Heosphorous above her.

"YOU KNOW, IF YOU KILL ME NOW, YOU'LL BE NO WORSE THAN ME!" Sebastian yelled back at her.

They were both bruised and battered, everywhere hurt, and they were both covered in cuts and blood. Some was their own, some wasn't.

"You forget, _brother mine_," Clary spat. "That I am also Valentine's child. I can be ruthless too."

Sebastian barked out a laugh, and Clary continued.

"But if I kill you, this will end. There'll be no more war. If I kill you, I'll have blood in my hands, but there won't be a second when I'll feel guilty about it."

With a screech, she thrust the sword into Sebastian, stabbing him right in the heart. He staggered back, clutching his heart.

Pain blazed through him, and he let out an inhuman cry of pain, sounding less like a human, and more like a animal. He felt the heavenly fire quickly spread around his body, and light shone out from beneath his clutch.

Falling to the ground, the sword remained within him, it's bright light almost blinding.

Wrenching it around, Sebastian withered beneath her, writhing in pain.

"Stop! Stop!" Jocelyn yelled, for the son she never had, sobs choking her words. "He's dead, Clary! He's dead! Stop, please, stop!"

Jocelyn removed herself from Luke's grasp, and ran over to where Sebastian lay.

Clary looked over at her Mother, and at Sebastian's form, as he screamed in pain. Bending down, Jocelyn cradled his blood-matted head, running her fingers through it.

"Hush darling, hush. It'll all be over soon."

With the sword still in him, the light remained, and Jocelyn had to shield her eyes from the burning white light.

Clary looked at Sebastian, his face covered in blood and dirt, and then at her mother, who was sobbing at the sight of him.

"Shush, my Jonathan, shush."

"Mom," Clary said breathlessly, almost outraged at what she was seeing. "What are doing?"

"I can't do anything for him, Clary," Jocelyn said, raising her voice above Sebastian's screams. "I can't raise him, can't save him from the fate that awaits him in hell, all I can do is hold him. All I can do is be the Mother he never had for these last few moments."

Clary couldn't watch.

The same boy who had murdered thousands and caused a lethal war was being comforted by her mother. As if he was the same son she had lost.

"_Carry on my wayward son_," Jocelyn sang shakily, tears streaming down her face.  
_"There'll be peace when you are done_."

Clary's heart wrenched.

It was the same lullaby the she had fallen asleep to for years.

Jace touched Clary's shoulder lightly.

Gasping for air, she looked at him, a look of pure adrenaline and fear in her eyes. Releasing her grip from the sword that was still implanted in Sebastian's chest, she slowly walked towards Jace, and wrapped him up in a tight hug, and he embraced her as if she would disappear in a second.

Though it was hard to hear her over Sebastian's screams, Jocelyn kept singing, never wavering.

_"Lay your weary head to rest,_

_Don't you cry no more."_

And Sebastian screamed.

Oh, how he roared.

Not principally because of the pain, though he was in agony, it felt as if a white hot ride had been shoved into his chest. It felt as if one whole half of him was being separated from the other, his head pounding with pain.

No, he did not scream out of pain.

He screamed for the blood on his hands, deaths that were his fault, lives he had taken.

He screamed out of terror. Out of fear of what would happen to him in Hell. Satan would have no mercy, and neither would God.

And then the pain subsided ever so slightly. And he could see the clouds open, and a pair of hands slowly reach out to take him, all while his mother sang in his ear. Focusing his eyes on her slightly aged face, he grasped her hand. His last human touch. "Mother..." He croaked, and it made Jocelyn sob harder.

"Sorry..." He rasped, the blood in his mouth making the words taste bitter.

"I know, darling," she said.

"So...Sorry..." his voice faded.

Though in his final moments there was something...Lighter? About him. As if finally making peace with his Mother had somehow killed some of the demon in him.

Smiling weakly, he murmured "I've never felt so...Light."

There was a bright, gold light, softer than Glorious's, but bright all the same, that only Jonathan could see.

The hands werepicking him up, slowly freeing his soul from his body. His punishment was coming, his fate about to met.

He was high in the sky, now.

Coming closer to the opening in the clouds.

With a final burst of life, he managed to whisper "Oh God, forgive me."

He didn't ask for mercy.

Couldn't. Wouldn't. Didn't deserve it.

And then there was blackness.

There had been some moments of clarity.

Moments when the nephilim part of him took over from the demon. When he would look at what he was doing with fear, disgust or confusion.

When he would try, for the couple seconds he was able, to right his wrongs. But thy were rare moments, happening perhaps once or twice ever few years, and it only lasted a few seconds at most.

And then demon part of him would wake again, and with a wicked grin and a sickly sweet _"Oh no, you don't,_" the demon would push down that human part of him, push it deep, deep down, where it wouldn't disturb him again for years to come. That's how it felt now. As if all the demon was gone from him, only memories left in its place.

"Jonathan Morgenstern," a deep voice rumbled.

Sebastian-No, Jonathan, looked around, startled by the sudden change in setting.

He now found himself in a completely white room, a staircase to his right, but other than that it was completely bare.

But he was not alone.

Two men were standing not far from him, one dressed all in white, the other in black.

Heaven and Hell.

Jonathan looked at them.

"You have committed many a sin, child of darkness."

"I-Yes," Jonathan's voice faltered. Images, memories of deaths, war and suffering flashed before his eyes.

"And you have brought many nephilim, down worlds and human alike into my Kingdom," the man in White said.

Then something clicked in Jonathan's head. He had killed those people. Had turned shadow hunter against shadow hunter.

The blood was on his hands.

He was guilty. Not anyone else.

But the thing was, Jonathan didn't remember doing that. He didn't remember thoughts running through his head as he brutally slaughtered millions of people. It was like watching someone else doing all those things, not him.

It was Sebastian, not Jonathan.

_Jonathan_.

Jonathan- Who had never really gotten the chance to live.

Who's life had been poisoned by the demon inside him.

Who's fate had been sealed before he was even born, who's soul was taken away from him and life destroyed by his Father.

Jonathan, who wasn't really anybody.

He dropped to his knees. Sobs racked his body as he brought his hands up to his eyes, while the screams of innocent people who were being killed rang through his ears, so loud he had to press his hands against them to try to dull the sound.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "It wasn't me. It was_him_, Sebastian, not _me_, Jonathan. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please," He begged

The men remained silent, watching him. Judging him.

"We know it was not really you who committed those acts, son of Morgenstern," The man in the black said finally.

"What?" Jonathan asked, confused.

"It was your demon self, another being altogether. When you were stabbed by Glorious by Clarissa Morgenstern, the heavenly fire killed the demon within you. Now, only your nephilim self remains," the man in White explained.

"But it is you who must pay the price," the man in Black said.

Jonathan looked up.

"But-but...I..."

"We all must pay the price of our actions, child of Valentine, it's time you paid yours," the man in the White said.

"But they weren't my actions!" Jonathan protested.

"Nonetheless, you are the only one who can pay the price for your demons sins."

"Just let me die," he screamed, sobs making the words come out shaky and jagged."Just let me rot in hell," he roared.

"We cannot do that," the two men said in unison.

"Why not?!" He asked, his voice gravelly from the shouting.

"Heaven cannot accept you, because your soul is not yet pure," the white man said.

"Hell cannot take you as you were soulless, your sins so atrocious even the mouth of Hell would spit you back out," the man in black rasped.

Jonathan's shoulders sagged.

"Instead, we sentence you to a greater punishment."

"You will live one Earth," the man in black continued. "But nothing may harm you. Unlike the downworlders, nothing will kill you. Shoot you, your body will simply heal. Cut off your head, it will reattach. You may never enter Heaven or Hell again, unless you prove yourself worthy."

"No... No you can't..." Jonathan's voice was shaky, and rose with each word. "Just let me die and be over with it! Please!" He yelled.

"You shall not raise your voice in the house of God!" The white man roared.

Jonathan slinked back slightly, admittedly taken aback by the white mans outburst, and mumbled "Sorry..."

"Your beauty and wealth, your weapons and followers, your powers, everything you hold dear to you, all will be taken away from you."

"W-Why?"

"Because you do not deserve them," the black man answered simply.

Swallowing, Jonathan looked down at his hands.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"You have the chance to make yourself a better man. An improved man. To be the son your Mother longed for. Your _real_ mother," the white man said gently. Jonathan's heart wrenched when the White man mentioned his mother.

"If," the white man begun. "Within a year, you have truly changed for the better, we shall see about having you enter this Kingdom."

Jonathan didn't say anything, only remained silent.

"Swear, Malum one, that will not sin again."

"I swear it," Jonathan said reluctantly.

He felt two hands on his shoulders, and raised his voice to see the two men stand on either side.

"We'll be watching closely, son of Morgenstern."

And then there was nothing.

**Hello! **

**First off- I know that this is not actually how it goes down in City of Heavenly Fire, but I wrote the first draft of this before I had finished it and I really liked the dialogue, so I kept it :)**

**Please comment what you think!**

**Thanks!**

**-Mia**

**Xx**


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke to an almighty pain in his head and body. Fire thrummed in his chest, and travelled all around his body. His head pounded so hard, he thought for a moment his skull would rip open.

"Oh good, you're awake."

He looked over to see a young, tall man (admittedly handsome) sitting beside him reading the newspaper.

"Wh-Where am I? What happened?" Jonathan asked.

"You're in an abandoned apartment in New York, 5th street. As for the second, I'm afraid I cannot answer, I am but a messenger of God."

"Who are you?" Jonathan croaked.

"Gabriel. Angel of The Lord. Your personal chaperone for the time being."

"So you're just going to follow me around for the rest of eternity?"

Gabriel scoffed.

"Don't be foolish, of course not. I have much better things to be doing. I'll be checking in once every day."

Suddenly, Jonathan became aware of a blinding pain on the left side of his face.

"Ow," he howled, and brought his hand up to touch it, but quickly withdrew it when he felt a gravelly, uneven surface.

Remembering what the man in black had said, he turned to Gabriel.

"What happened to my face? Let me see my face!" He asked urgently.

Gabriel gave him a sad smile and held up a mirror.

Jonathan swore.

The entire right side of his face was scarred and twisted, leaving his face disfigured and disgusting. His lips were swollen and red, and on the left side, he could see the veins beneath his skin, coming up to reach lower lip. Looking down, he saw his entire body was etched with grey vein-like marks, and the red, blue and purple of his veins showed, contrasting against the pale whiteness of his skin.

He looked at his reflection in disgust.

This was who he was.

The monster children were afraid hid beneath their beds at night.

A thing of horror movies and myths.

This was who he was.

A real monster.

A demon.

"It wasn't all them," Gabriel explained. "When you were stabbed by Glorious and the heavenly fire killed the demon in you, that did it some of the damage as well."

Jonathan didn't answer. Couldn't answer.

"What about my mother? Clary-My sister, and Jace? Do they know I'm alive?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"No," he answered. "They all think you're dead."

Jonathan looked down at his hands and didn't say anything, the events of last night replaying in his mind, again and again and again.  
He focused on the mirror, eyes not moving.

He spent the next two weeks holed up in the apartment, never moving from his bed. Mourning the loss of his beauty. Grieving the lives he took.

Regretting the life he lived. Gabriel, as promised, dropped in once every day, re-doing his _iratzes_ and forcing chicken soup and water down his throat.

It was on the Sunday of the second week that he first saw him.

Max.

He had just woken up from a nightmare-ridden sleep, and tentatively turned his face away from the sun. Groggily opening one eye, he was greeted by the sight of a black haired pale boy standing in the middle of the room.

Cursing, he sat up and scuttled back into the right corner of his bed.

"I know you," He stated, his voice shaky.

"Yes," The boy replied. "You killed me."

"Max..." His voice faltered.

"Yes," Max answered, a ghostly smile appeared on his face.

"You're not real. You're not really here," Jonathan protested, his voice cracked.

"Yes. A lot of us aren't real because of you. Me. Jordan. The _real_ Sebastian Verlac. All of us gone. Because of you. "

"No, no..."

"Yes, yes. You can't ever forget us."

"I'm sorry," He was at a loss for words. What can you possibly say when the ghost of the boy you killed is standing in the middle of your apartment?  
"If it was me...Now...I wouldn't..."

"I know."

They stood (well, Jonathan lay) in silence, and though Jonathan found incredibly strange and awkward, it didn't seem to bother Max all that  
much.  
A  
fter a while, Jonathan broke the silence. "Why are you here?"

"To remind you of your past life, of which you can never escape."

"But I can change, surely? I already have!"

"Some agree, and say that your soul has truly been redeemed. Some disagree, as my father says 'Once a demon always a demon'."

"No, but I have changed! There's no more demon in me!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"I..." Jonathan stopped. How _did_he know? What if the sword hadn't worked? "Well, it's not my problem. You'll have to talk to the men upstairs."

"Would you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Would you take me 'Forbidden Planet' comic book store?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
**Please comment!**


	3. Chapter 3

It took a lot of encouraging and quick stop to thrift store across the road from the apartment, but Max eventually got Jonathan to bring him to Forbidden Planet. Jonathan was fuming.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Jonathan muttered.

"It'll be fun!"

"How much do these things cost?"

Gabriel had left money out for him in case Jonathan felt the urge to socialise or buy food. Or something like that.

"I don't know. Mom used to buy them for me."

They were quiet as they walked down the street, Max invisible to everyone but Jonathan, and Jonathan's head down and his face covered by a black hoodie.

"Can we go to JJ's after for ice-cream?" Max asked, breaking the silence.

"I guess so," Jonathan answered uneasily.

Before Jonathan could say anything more, Max grabbed his excitedly. "This is it!" He exclaimed.

Jonathan looked up at the big black building.

'Forbidden Planet' was written in silver letters.

Max tugged his arm. "Come on!"

They walked inside. It was a vast room, with comic books and figurines in every available place.

Max walked towards the section that had 'Manga!' written above it in big capital letters.  
Jonathan reached out and felt the texture of the shiny covers beneath his fingertips.

"This is the one," Max said happily, pointing to a book on the shelf.

Jonathan took it from the shelf and inspected it.

"Witches and warlocks, huh?"

"Yeah! It's about this girl, Noriyo, who gets sent to this new school, but it turns out it's actually a school for magic!"

Max chats happily as they walk towards the till. Jonathan's tempted to buy him the sequel, he certainly has enough money, but he decides against it.

He'd quite like to visit this place again. His unspoken thoughts linger in the back of his mind as they queue to pay.

That Max is perhaps the only thing he has in the world now, and he can't afford to let him go. They reach the check out. Jonathan bends his head down further as he places the book on the counter.

"That'll be $7.60, sir," the man said.

Jonathan flicked through his notes. Handing the man a ten dollar bill, he quickly grabbed the book and turned to leave.

"Sir- Sir! You forgot your receipt an your-"

"Keep the change," He said as he walked out the door.

They walked in silence for a while longer before Jonathan sat down on a bench in Central Park.

He played with the book in his hands, flicking through the pages, trying to distract himself from peoples stares.

"Here," he said, handing the book to Max.

"Thanks," Max said quietly.

They were silent for a few minutes more, before Jonathan spoke up.

"I am sorry, Max. You don't know what I would give to change what I did."

"No, it's okay."

Jonathan could sense the sadness coming from the young boy.

"Hey, you still want to go to JJ's?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Max gave him a reluctant smile. "I guess so."

Jonathan got up and began to walk when he heard Max laugh.

"What?" He asked, relieved to hear such a happy sound coming from the young boy.

"You're going the wrong way!" He giggled. "It's on 54th Street. Come on, I'll show you."

Jonathan looked at the menu in front of him.

"Uh... What flavour do you like?" He asked Max.

"Chocolate."

Jonathan made a face.

"You don't like chocolate?" Max asked, flabbergasted.

"I don't know...I can't remember," Jonathan answered.

"Mommy, why is that boy talking to himself?" He heard a little girl say, her eyes fixed on Jonathan.

"Because he's an ill man. Come on, Darcy. We'll get ice-cream somewhere else." The mother shot a glare at Jonathan and tutted before grabbing her daughters hand and practically dragging her out of JJ's.

Jonathan's fist clenched.

"Maybe you should be a bit quieter."

"You think?" Jonathan whispered.

Eventually, the waitress came over.

"What'll you have?"

"Uh...Ice cream."

"The ice-cream part's pretty self-explanatory. What flavour do you want?"

"Um...Chocolate, I think."

"You think?"

Jonathan was beginning to get flustered. "No. I- Chocolate ice cream. That's defiantly what I want."

"Any toppings?"

Jonathan stole a glance Max, who shook his head.

"No, thank you."

The waitress- her name tag said 'Betty'- Hurrumphed and went back to the counter.

As soon as she left, Max spoke up.

"Why are you covering your face with your hood?"

Jonathan thought about his answer for a minute before responding.

"Because..." He mumbled. "I don't want people to see my face."

"Why not?"

"Because it's disgusting!" He was fighting to keep his voice low.

"I don't think so."

"Well, I don't care what you think about my face!"

Betty came again and smacked his ice-cream down in front of him.

Max smiled gleefully, and grabbing a spoon, began to dig in.

Tentivley, Jonathan picked up a spoon and put a scoop in his mouth.

"Oh my God," He mumbled, as the ice cream melted in his mouth. "This is incredible."

His stomach began to rumble, and Jonathan noticed how hungry he was. Soon enough, he was shovelling the ice cream into his mouth.

When he was finished, he lay back, content.

He turned his eyes to the window. It was getting dark.

"We should head home, Max."

After paying, they went outside and were greeted by a cold gust of wind.

"I have to go," Max said sadly.

"Where?"

"..."

"Oh. To the white man?"

"Yeah."

Jonathan was silent. "You don't have to go. You could stay with me."

Max shook his head. "Nah."

_But if you go I don't what I'll do.__  
_

"Okay then. Bye."

"Bye," Max said, walking away. "Thanks for the ice cream and comic!"

Before Jonathan could answer, Max was gone.

Sighing, he turned around and began to walk down the narrow alley way. His eyes on his feet, and camoflagaued by the darkness of clothes, Jonathan was almost invisible.

Five minutes without Max, and already images and memories were tormenting Jonathan's mind. He quickened his pace, but stopped when he saw the sign above a small store.

'_Guns for sale.'__  
_

Swallowing, he stepped inside.

He sat on the edge of his bed, playing with gun in his hands.

He could hear the screams of terror ring in his ears.

If he wasn't going to die- What was the harm in trying?

Taking a deep breath, he placed the top of gun in his mouth. Biting down on it, he took one last breath.

And pulled the trigger.

**Hello!**

**CASSANDRA CLARE ANSWERED MY QUESTION ON TUMBLR! SHE ACKNOWLEDGED MY EXSITENCE!**

**Thanks for all your wonderful comments- They're so immensely appreciated!**

**Would you guys be interested if perhaps I gave you guys my playlist for writing this story?**

**So, what did you guys think of this chapter? 5+ reviews for the next chapter!**

**(P.S- If you want to follow me on tumblr, it's 'buckyonyourleft')**


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